


Cold Comfort

by Brighid



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brighid/pseuds/Brighid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A poetic response, written long ago, to a story by Mona Ramsey, called Comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through my senfic files -- the in progress and long abandoned -- trying to finish off some stuff my health pre-empted. Found this, felt it stood all right alone, though if you've never read the story that inspired it, do so. The speaker is Blair, of course. = ) For the long-gone Mona, and the lovely Livia, and JiM, who is always patient about my poetry. 

## Cold Comfort

by Brighid

Author's webpage: <http://internettrash.com/users/livia/brighid/brighid.htm>

Author's disclaimer: Not my characters, but definitely my poetry. No one else would take the blame. 

* * *

Cold Comfort 

by Brighid 

You can touch my body  
and know all the secrets of my flesh;  
your hands unlock the secrets of  
my soul even as they trace   
the twists of tendons, the muscle and   
bone and blood of me, the heat that  
rises and the whisper of my breath,  
the inspiration. 

You pull me to you, and your  
eyes are bright and I can only  
know what you show, what you  
share, and there's no going  
deep into you, no knowing there;  
I've only your words to work  
with, and those are fleeting  
and spare. 

I want to believe that it's love,  
and it is, it is, I know it is, but  
it's not the love that sears you,  
not the love that blinds you,  
not the love that remakes you utterly;  
it's too gentle, too small, too kind  
and your eyes are bright and I know  
it's pity. 

Your hands open the undiscovered  
country of my body, map me and  
learn me and sear me and unmake me  
and all the while your eyes are bright;  
they never leave me so I cannot pretend even  
as your mouth takes the inspiration from  
mine that this is anything more than friendship,  
so kind. 

I am molten beneath you and you  
whisper soft things, gentle things  
and I want you to be cruel and I want   
you to need me, not merely my presence;  
I want to be your torment and your comfort  
but I am only your friend and you touch me knowing  
everything in me except the chill that's settled  
at the heart. 

* * *

End

Brighid 


End file.
